


An Eye For An Eye (Dream SMP crime AU)

by dankspacewolf20



Category: DreamSMP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28906053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankspacewolf20/pseuds/dankspacewolf20
Summary: In this story, there may be out of character moments, but this is how I view different members from the SMP being involved in criminal activity. I have not included everyone from the SMP, just people that I watch mostly. There WILL be violence and very heavy themes involved with these characters so be careful when reading.This story will follow Tommy and Tubbo's relationship while focusing on the 'side' characters' storylines. Each chapter will be either an introduction to their character and their specific skill, or it will be a plot/side plot type thing.This is the story of Dream and how he recruited the best team of criminal deviants he could find and how Tommy and Tubbo fit into it.(The story follows a timeline that is not chronological. The dates of each chapter will be at the top for clarification!)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Thick as Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time using ao3 so forgive me if it's not the best formatting. I hope you enjoy this and shout out to my mcyt friends in the discord <3 Thank you!
> 
> Also, to one of my best IRL friends for helping me with the plot. You've inspired me and helped me grow! Thank you :)

_16th October 2020_

The two boys got away with anything they set their minds to. Stealing from the farmer's market and always getting the freshest, ripe fruits and vegetables or pickpocketing right out of a stranger's back pocket. The two were unstoppable and had never been caught.

The weather had just turned to a slight chill after the sunset. Fall was leaving and the cold bitter nights of winter approached. Walking along the brick path the two had spotted their first target for the night. A man, who was dressed in business attire, was walking on the opposite side of the street. He passed under a lamp post and the light glinted off of his watch. You could almost see the light reflect in the two boys' eyes. They were ready. The older, but much short boy crossed the street to intercept the man, while the younger one waited. Even though Tubbo was a bit older than Tommy, he looked much younger. Much more in need of help.

"E-excuse me, sir," Tubbo spoke up as he reached the man's side. The businessman looked him up and down and frowned slightly. He checked his watch and looked around. Tommy was on his phone, waiting in plain sight at the bus stop.

"Aren't you supposed to be inside young man? There is a curfew you know," He replied. Tubbo slightly glanced at Tommy, giving him a signal. The younger boy slowly started crossing the street.

"I had gotten off at the wrong stop on the bus. Can you show me where I went wrong?" Tubbo handed over the map that was in his back pocket. The man sighed and took the map from him. Tommy was now walking up the street towards where they were stood. "Mind if I just," Tubbo carefully moved the man's hand away from the map, sliding off his watch in one quick motion, "move your hand a bit so I can see too? I was supposed to be at 1st street but I ended up here." Tommy was now only a few feet away from the two.

"Well, you were supposed to-" The man couldn't finish his sentence.

"Tubbo!" Tommy interjected. The man and Tubbo both looked up at him approaching. "What did I tell you about not paying attention to the stops. Mother's worried sick about you. Let's go home. Thank you, sir, for accompanying him for however long it took me to get here," Tommy laid an arm around Tubbo, the height difference really selling the 'older brother' look for him. The man seemed confused but shook his head and hurriedly rushed off in the direction he was heading. The two boys briskly walked off in the other direction to put some distance between them and their victim in case he realized. The two fist-bumped and moved onto their next target.

Their next target was more of Tommy's skill level. Tubbo was great at sleight of hand interactions and being stealthy. Tommy likes to create chaos and take what he can. He's never been the one to be sneaky. They walked into the bar that was a few blocks from where their first victim was. At this time of night, everyone would be too drunk to realize they're not there for the drinks. Even some of the local bartenders knew what they were doing, but didn't seem to mind. After all... crime seemed to be welcome in this city. If you're not a criminal, you're a victim.

"Alright, serve me up a chocolate volcano would ya?" Tommy said throwing down some cash. The man behind the bar rolled his eyes. He knew what was about to happen. His poor customers were once again about to be duped by the unstoppable duo. Little did the two boys know that he was an even bigger criminal than they were. He just liked their antics. Swiftly creating a concoction with whatever he could manage to find that wasn't alcoholic, he sat it down in front of the young boy. Tubbo was somewhere outside, waiting. He didn't really need to be involved unless things went wrong. Then he could sweet-talk their way out of anything by coming up with a sob story. Tommy grinned and took a drink. Obviously realizing he wasn't going to like it, he didn't keep it in his mouth long and spat it at the nearest bar goer. He quickly ducked and made it seem as if the person next to the other bar goer was at fault.

"Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you man?" The man Tommy spat on questioned. The other man next to him, clearly beyond any coherent thought spun around to face him. Tommy crawled out from under the bar, to egg them on.

"I'll do whatever I want to, asshole!" The second man cried out. The man behind the bar moved some things around, getting ready for the fight that was about to break out. This was probably the second time this month. He kinda liked the two thieves' approach to stealing money. It was entertaining and he always got a bonus for cleaning up afterward.

"That lad just spat all over you big man. What are you gonna do about it?" Tommy egged the first man on. The man took the final swig of his drink before breaking the bottle on the counter.

"I'm gonna knock the shit out of you," The first man lunged at the second and the chaos had just begun. Thankfully everyone who was somewhat sober ran out of the bar... but everyone else joined in on the fight that was drunk. Tommy went around to all of the tables, picking up wallets and grabbing any and all cash he could find. Dodging a flying bottle he realized the man behind the counter was just staring at him... and laughing. That unnerved the boy. He quickly bailed on the rest of the wallets, as he had gotten a bad feeling from this event. Dashing outside Tubbo was alarmed at the sudden outburst from him.

"It sounds like it's going swell, are you okay?" He asked with a hint of concern. Tommy pushed aside the bad feeling and grinned. He jabbed at Tubbo with his elbow.

"You think I can't hold my ground? You may be good at the sleight of hand things, but chaos is my game. Let's go home. I think we have a good amount of stuff for tonight," Tubbo didn't seem to believe his answer but shrugged it off anyways. They had a long walk to get back to their small apartment. Tommy still felt unnerved as they walked down the corridor to get home quicker. A door slammed open behind them making the two a bit skittish. Tubbo glanced over his shoulder quickly.

"I think that's the bartender Tommy," Tubbo whispered. They both kept walking, and only quickened their pace just enough to buy them some time to think. Tommy mapped out the path in his head. If they took the next few rights and then left it would put them onto the main street. No one would be dumb enough to follow them out to the main road where bar-goers and late-night shoppers hung out.

"Keep walking, it's fine," Tommy replied in a hushed voice. They could hear the man's footsteps behind them quicken as well. Chills were sent down both of the boys' spines. They had never been caught. Tonight wasn't about to be any different for the two. They hurried through the few twist and turns of the back alley and... Tommy had miscalculated. He had brought them into a corner.

"Tommy," Tubbo warned, grabbing Tommy's arm to turn him. He followed Tubbo's gaze and realized the bartender was calmly walking towards them. This didn't feel right. The only protection they had was Tommy's pocket knife. It was currently in his right back pocket, which he could quickly grab for if things went south. The two exchanged glances and Tommy swallowed hard. The bartender said nothing but was still approaching. Should they speak up, run, or fight? Tommy shielded Tubbo and stood slightly in front of him.

"Alright then, what do you want?" Tommy harshly questioned the silent man. The man gave them a smile and the two boys frowned. "Speak up you dodgy prick." The man finally stopped about five feet from them.

"This is an odd way to approach the situation, but I've been watching you two for the past few months. Why do you think there's never been a single call about the theft in this bar? Our patrons don't seem to notice, but the bartenders like I do," The mysterious man finally spoke up. Tommy grabbed his knife out of his pocket swiftly and held it up. It wasn't like a normal pocket knife, it was a tad bit bigger. Something that could definitely do damage if the user wanted it to.

"Piss off. What do you want? Stop beating around the bush," Tommy threatened, pointing the knife at him. Tubbo watched carefully from behind. He too had a knife but was too afraid to use it. He had never killed anyone. Neither had Tommy.

"I'm afraid I can't be the one to explain to you. I'm gonna have to take you to the boss," The bartender started to say. Tommy forcefully shoved the man into the wall and held the knife to his throat. There was an eerie silence as the two stared each other down.

"Don't follow us ever again or... or I'll," Tommy was scrambling for words. The bartender smirked and leaned into the knife.

"Or you'll what, Tommy?" The man questioned. This took both of the boys by surprise and Tommy reared back, removing the knife from the man's throat. "Stop with the childish games and walk with me. There's a lot to talk about. I'm Wilbur by the way. The boss can't wait to meet you," Tubbo and Tommy exchanged glances. They didn't seem to have a choice.

"How did you," Tubbo spoke up but was interrupted. Wilbur held a hand up. Tommy slowly put his knife away but was still trailing far behind along with Tubbo.

"We'll explain everything when we get there, Tubbo," Wilbur replied. It was Tubbo's turn to rear backward. The two boys stuck close together, trailing slowly behind Wilbur.

"Stay calm, I'll think of something," Tommy whispered to Tubbo. He nodded and they silently followed Wilbur into the night. This didn't sit well with either of them. Sharing glances between each other the whole time they were walking, the two stuck close together. The bartender had been in on their little shenanigans. _Maybe I'm not actually skilled... if the fucking bartender was letting me get away with this shit_ Tommy thought as they walked. They didn't pass back by the bar, they had taken a separate route. _How many times had we been in that particular place and gotten away with it because of Wilbur? He mentioned bartenders plural... who are the others that know?_ Tubbo pondered. He assumed Tommy was doing the same thing, walking along with this silent man.

After a bit of walking the two boys and their new mysterious companion came to a stop at a warehouse. _This was it. This is how the unstoppable duo was about to be killed_ Tommy thought. There wouldn't be any reason to take them to a warehouse unless it meant certain death. Tommy went through all of the worse case scenarios in his head. Tubbo was doing the same.

"Alright. He'll be here shortly. I have to go back to cleaning up the mess that you made. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it," Wilbur said with a wink. He turned on a dime and was back down the path that they originally came from.

"We could just leave... right?" Tommy questioned. Tubbo shook his head. He had a bad feeling that if they left they wouldn't make it out alive.

"I don't like either situation but we should stay, Tommy," Tubbo replied. The two boys could hear footsteps from inside the warehouse door. They braced for whoever, or whatever was about to come out of those doors. The breeze picked up and the door slowly creaked open. The two were unsure if that was their cue to walk in, but Tommy was the first to slowly push the door open. The warehouse was dimly lighted and looked like some sort of hideout. There wasn't anyone in there but the place had couches, arcade machines, and a pool table. There was a small kitchen in the corner that looked like it doubled as a bar. A small caged-in area held weapons and crates of something which Tommy assumed was ammo. Tubbo stuck by Tommy's side, both afraid of losing one another. Just like in a horror movie, the door slammed shut behind them.

"Great," Tubbo muttered under his breath. The footsteps they heard earlier didn't seem to belong to anyone. Not a single soul was inside this warehouse beside the two of them. A soft noise from behind made them turn slightly. Nothing was there. "Tommy I think maybe we should go now." Tommy was scanning the warehouse still. He knew someone was there watching, he just couldn't tell where they were. "Tommy." Tubbo snapped him out of his thoughts. "I suggest we," Tubbo started to say before he realized someone had drawn back a bow. An unmistakable sound. He shoved Tommy to the ground and an arrow replaced the spot where he was stood. A small chuckle erupted from the dark and Tommy got back to his feet, snatching the arrow.

"You think this is funny?" He waved the arrow towards the darkness. He could only assume that's where it came from. A small thud was followed by some footsteps. The man to whom the mysterious laughter belonged emerged from the shadows. His appearance made the two boys take a few steps backward. He donned a dark green cloak and had a bow slung over his shoulder. He also had a karambit sheathed on a leg holster. The curved blade intrigued Tubbo. He had always wanted one, just for protection though. He was also very tall, the boys hadn't even looked up yet. The man had a mask covering most of his face. It had a crudely drawn smiley face and what looked like blood stains soaked into the material. If you looked carefully enough the mask was broken towards the bottom right corner of the man's face. A dark scar peeked out from behind. There were tufts of dirty blonde hair sticking out from the sides of his cloak's hood.

"In fact, I think it's hilarious. You must be Tubbo," The man said looking down at the shorter of the two boys. He stared intently, making Tubbo a bit nervous. That soulless look from the mask is enough to make anybody freeze up. "And you must be Tommy. We've had tabs on you for a while now. Don't worry, we obviously aren't apart of any sort of FBI. Wilbur, who you met earlier, even has a normal job as a bartender. We've been letting you get away with these loud crimes for a while now," The man said turning his back to them. He started walking towards the couches in the middle of the warehouse. The two boys glanced at each other and slowly followed. He almost moved along the floor as if he was floating.

"Get to the point you green bastard," Tommy felt brave enough to insult the man at least a bit. He realized they weren't in any immediate danger yet. The man turned around swiftly making him immediately regret the words, but he still held his ground staring at the masked horror.

"Calm yourself kid. I'm making the two of you an offer," The man turned back and sat down on the couch folding his hands behind his head and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "Are you going to insult me again or listen to me this time?" Tommy wanted to say something but decided against it. Tubbo seemed interested in what the man had to say. At this angle, the boys could see that the scar was much larger than just a small bit around his mouth. It looked like it reached all the way up to his forehead. The man's eyes were still covered but they could tell that it was a huge battle scar of some sort.

"Alright. Pitch your idea," Tommy replied crossing his arms. Even with the mask on, they somehow knew the man was smiling underneath.

"I'm offering you two a job. Join my crew of criminals. We run this town and I see that you two have talents I've yet to add. Tubbo, you're very skilled in stealing in plain sight and from your victim directly. That's impressive," There was almost a hint of proudness in that statement. Tubbo felt oddly happy about the comment. "Tommy, you are the boldest mother fucker I've seen in a while. You don't recognize when you should step down and I think that's a trait that can be trained to perfection. Wilbur... he could have killed you by looking at you wrong. Yet, you held a knife to his throat. Bold." Tommy frowned. _How did he know that?_ Tommy questioned himself.

"What if we say no?" Tubbo questioned. He had read Tommy's mind. He was going to ask the same question. The man sighed unfolding his arms from behind his head. He sat up straight and tipped his mask up a bit, revealing a devious smile and the fact that his scar did go past his nose.

"You won't say no to a home full of criminals, food always hot and ready, and countless amounts of cash. It's too good to pass down," The man offered, lowering his mask to cover his face again. He was right. They couldn't stay in their crappy apartment for much longer. Cash was already short, selling items they've stolen isn't exactly the easiest market. Sometimes people recognize the objects and immediately report them for it.

"Why should we trust you? We don't even know your name," Tommy stated, folding his arms together. They were going to take the offer anyway, Tommy just didn't want to make it seem like it was blind trust. No one ever earns blind trust around here.

"Are you going to take my offer?" The man pressed further. The two boys looked at each other and Tubbo frowned. Tommy gave him a look that said _you choose._ Tubbo went with his gut reaction.

"We accept. Now, your name," Tubbo sternly replied. The man looked like he was about to reach out and grab for Tubbo but stopped himself.

"The name is Dream," He stated. "You will refer to me as that name, although it isn't my real name. Now, I have business elsewhere. The rest of the team will be in contact. You can stay here if you would like." Dream turned, his cloak sweeping out behind him, almost seeming as if he vanished when he turned. What do they do now? Their normal night of stealing and causing chaos had turned into something the two would have never expected. Oddly enough they seemed to feel safe inside of this warehouse. Even though Tommy wanted to stay, he decided not to. The two boys left and headed back to their apartment for the last time. Unbeknownst to them, they were now apart of the small family of criminals. Dream had failed to mention there was more of them. Their little apartment would no longer be called home. That dark and scary warehouse which would be illuminated and full of laughter during the day was now their new home. 

The last two members had been recruited.


	2. Partners in crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder, this story has DARK themes and will have violence. It will definitely be out of character for those involved. This is how I view them in this criminal AU.

_23rd December 2003_

The whole city was Clay's family's playground. His parents were the bosses and had everyone at their beck and call. At the time of Clay's birth, his father was out killing the chief of police for jailing one of his guys. When Clay was little, his mother had a few lowlives steal a bunch of toys and baby supplies for them. Their little sunshine was going to have the best life possible. Even if it meant killing and stealing in his name.

At age 5 they had enrolled Clay into kindergarten so he could experience a normal childhood. They of course used fake names and documents so that they could be perceived as just the rich parents with a loving son. He was such a carefree and loving little boy. He became everyone's friend almost instantly.... except for one kid. He refused to tell Clay his real name and insisted on being called Techno. Clay only momentarily was confused but immediately beckoned out to who he thought was his new friend.

"Please! Please play with us Techno," Clay called out, motioning over to the toy blocks that were being built up into a small fort. Techno crossed his arms and carefully watched the other children. 

"Only if I can be king," Techno replied with no sign of emotion. Clay grinned from ear to ear and grabbed his arm.

"Okay, your majesty!" Clay dragged Techno into the middle of the block fort and started working together. By no means were they friends, but Techno didn't hate Clay like all of the other snotty children. He seemed bearable. 

_22nd August 2004_

The attention didn't waiver from Clay when his brother Tubbo was born. Not long after he was enrolled into kindergarten, his brother was brought home from the hospital. His parents seemed to love both of them equally. Clay loved being an older brother. He didn't know what to do with a baby but he figured when Tubbo was older they could play with action figures together. On occasion, Clay had to stay with Tubbo by himself. This made him a bit nervous because sometimes his baby brother would cry and all he could do was rock him back to sleep. He was just a kid, he didn't know how to help nurture his brother. All he could do was wait until his parents got home. This became a frequent task even though his parents said it would only happen in an emergency. His parents kept working 'long nights'. Clay was 7 years old trying to balance his attention between Tubbo and his new friend from school, Techno. He took on this responsibility, making him mature much more quickly.

_12th August 2009_

Techno and Clay's friendship had grown through their elementary years. Techno had even gotten to come to spend the night for some sleepovers. Only on rare occasions when the family wasn't in their special house. That's what Clay's parents told him. It was a secret house that only they could know about. That doesn't mean he wouldn't tell his best friend about it. This time it was Clay's 10th birthday. Tubbo was in his room being supervised by his mom while the two boys hung out in the living room.

"You know, my family has another house. You're only allowed to come over when we're at this small weird house," Clay blatantly stated. He knew he shouldn't be speaking about this but he figured Techno would never tell. Techno was lazily leafing through a comic book, almost not paying attention to him.

"That's weird," His monotone voice spoke up. Clay, unlike most kids in their grade, never thought that Techno was being rude. People found his unenthused voice unfriendly. Clay thought it made him sound kinda cool.

"I know! But hey, at least they let you come over for my birthday. It gets kinda lonely at the other place," The birthday boy rambled on. Techno sat up and set the comic book aside.

"Y'know you could come to my house. I'd have to ask but," Techno trailed off, as a slammed door in the background caught both of the boys' attention. Clay's dad rushed past, his clothes looking a bit torn. Techno picked the comic book back up.

"I'd love that!" Clay exclaimed, hoping to take the attention off of his dad. He knew he must have gotten back from a hard job. Techno didn't seem too bothered by Clay's dad's sudden appearance. This happens a lot at his house too. Both of Techno's parents are FBI and they always have long nights and come home exhausted.

"My dad does the same thing," Techno admitted. Clay frowned, a bit confused at what he meant. The boy kept his mouth shut not wanting to admit something that could get him in trouble. His parents told him that they don't do nice things. Whatever that means... "They're like big police officers. They work for the government." Clay's mother happened to be passing through the living room with the cake, overhearing this. Tubbo must have just settled down for a nap. 

"That's so lovely, Techno! What kind of work do they do? Investigation?" She questioned, setting the cake down between the boys. It was already pre-sliced and she had brought plates and forks for them.

"I think they're like FBI or something," Techno immediately grabbed for a plate and began serving himself. Clay followed and his mother shot him a stern glance. Although he hadn't done anything wrong, the glance from his mother made him shrink backward a bit. She might have heard him mention they have another house. She didn't like Techno's answer. That meant bad news for Clay's parents.

"Enjoy the cake. Your father and I will be out with gifts shortly," She said ruffling Clay's hair, the mood immediately changing back to normal. He quickly pawed at the top of his head, fixing his hair. After she had left the boys went to town on the cake.

The next day after Techno was picked up by his parents, Clay's mom sat him down.

"Honey, you know that your dad and I don't do nice things right? Well, people like Techno's parents try to stop people like us from doing our jobs. I can't have you telling him things that might make our job harder. Do you understand?" Her voice was gentle but Clay knew he had messed up. She was fighting a battle in her head. Techno's parents were hot on their trail. If Techno even mentions something small to them this could mean bad news. 

"I'm sorry mom. I won't tell him anything," Clay responded, looking down. He felt tears prick at his eyes. He didn't like disappointing his family. Although he was glad it was his mother talking to him. His dad wasn't as gentle as she was. He would threaten punishments and to take away him being able to hang out with Techno. 

"That's alright. We do have to head back home though. It's safer there for us. Let's go get your brother," She gave him a hug and they went to his room. Clay had gotten a polaroid camera for his birthday and tugged at her arm, the tears quickly receeding. 

"Can you take a picture of Tubbo and I? I wanna test out the camera," Clay beamed. His mom nodded and he rushed into his room to grab it. Tubbo had just woken up and his hair was a mess. Clay grinned and waved at Tubbo.

"Let's take a picture!" Clay exclaimed. Tubbo grinned as his mother was trying to smooth down the brown tangle on top of his head. 

"Picture!" Tubbo echoed. Their mom smiled at them. She could tell how much Tubbo already looked up to Clay. The two were already amazing brothers. She regrets not being there for those nights when Clay had to watch him by himself. They turned out alright though... The flash that came from the camera was bright enough to blind both boys. She didn't even need to help them, they had figured it out on their own. Clay set the camera down and rubbed at his eyes. It started whirring and the picture slid out from the top.

"Now look! Take the picture gently, and hold it for a minute," Clay instructed Tubbo. Tubbo gently took it and held it up. The two boys watched as their smiling faces showed up. Tubbo was at chest level and the picture had cut off from Clay's nose upward. 

"Aw," Tubbo said, recognizing that his brother's face got cut off. "Another, please Clay!" Clay took the picture from him and nodded, setting it to the side. Once again the blinding light lit up the room and they patiently waited. This time it showed both boy's faces right next to each other. Clay had sat down next to Tubbo and slung his arm around him. It was the perfect photo.

"Alright, boys. Let's go home," Their mom said as the two boys grabbed for the photos taking it with them. Clay had gotten the clearer picture, and Tubbo kept the one that was cropped. The younger brother beamed at the photo and immediately tucked it into his overalls for safekeeping.

Clay and Tubbo were left at home, while their parents were off on another job. The two boys were currently playing a game of Uno... well at least attempting it. Tubbo had an idea of what was happening but not enough of an idea to play well. A knock on the door startled the two of them and Clay held a finger up to his mouth. Tubbo sat still while his brother went to the window and barely peeked through it. It looked like two police officers. Clay's heart rate sped up, not sure what to do. They knocked again. Tubbo shook his head, seeing his brothers panicked look. 

"Shh. Don't move," Clay whispered. They knocked again, this time louder.

"Police! We have a warrant. Open up or we're coming in," The voice announced from outside. There were two of them outside of the front door. Clay carefully walked over to Tubbo and helped him stand up.

"We're gonna play the hardest game of hide-n-seek okay? We need to find the best hiding spot ever!" Clay rushed out. Tubbo half grinned and nodded. He led them back to their parents' room, into the closet. "We also have to stay quiet. Okay?" Tubbo nodded. He shut the door behind them as the front door burst open. Both of the brother's heart rates sped up. They could hear them stepping around the house. Something pointy poked Clay from Tubbo's pocket. He still had the polaroid from a few nights ago. Clay shifted, so the picture wasn't jabbing his side anymore. However, shifting made something else in the closet move and make a small noise. The two boys held their breath as the footsteps grew closer. The footsteps stopped outside of the closet and the two hadn't breathed yet. Slowly the door creaked open and a gun appeared from the small slit of light. 

"No!" Tubbo cried out, clutching onto Clay. Clay quickly turned, shielding Tubbo with his body, expecting something to happen.

"Which one did they want?" One of the men's voices questioned. Clay was holding onto Tubbo's shaking body as tight as he could. He was going to be his shield no matter what happened. 

"The younger one. Said it would teach them a lesson? I'm not sure. Let's get them out of there," The other voice replied. "Come on kids." The door fully opened and it revealed Clay holding Tubbo tightly. 

"The one with the darker hair. Come on, kid. Let go," The first man responded. Tubbo was quietly crying and Clay shook his head. The second man reached over and grabbed Tubbo's arm. 

"Stop it!" Clay cried out. He didn't want to play tug of war with his brother, but they left him no choice. He tightly held onto Tubbo's wrist as they tried to lift him up out of the closet. The other man tried to restrain Clay but he kicked the man hard in the shin, still holding onto Tubbo.

"You little brat," He forcefully yanked Clay's hand in the opposite direction. The second man had Tubbo's arm and the first man had Clay's tearing the two boys in opposite directions.

"Clay please!" Tubbo sobbed out. Clay panicked. He didn't know what to do. He flailed and kicked at the man restraining him but it was no use. The man got Clay's hand away from Tubbo and he felt his fingers slip.

The two boys cried out for each other as Tubbo was taken away. The officer restraining clay flung him onto the bed and swiftly left the room. Clay got up and tried to open the door but it was somehow blocked from the other side. He could hear Tubbo's frantic crying getting fainter. 

"Tubbo!" Clay screamed out. He was looking for other options. The window. He tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. Tubbo's cries were now outside. He needed out fast. He grabbed under his parent's pillow for the gun they kept there. Shakily he aimed it at the window and flinched away while pulling the trigger. The gun recoiled and almost knocked him backward. The glass shattered and his ears rang. He threw the gun down and launched himself at the window, glass cutting into his arms as he crawled over and outside. Blood trickled down his arms, and all over his shirt and pants. His adrenaline-fueled state helped him move quickly without worry. The police cars were just taking off down the road and Clay ran, but it was no use. The speed of the car was too much for his small legs. He slumped to the ground, now realizing the injuries he had gotten. He cried, holding his arms gently. The frantic crunch of gravel brought his attention towards his parent's car that was now approaching. He didn't even bother to look up. His ears were still ringing a bit and he felt weak from losing the blood. There were shards of glass stuck in his arms.

"Get Clay, I'm going inside," Clay's father barked out, nearly leaping out of the car before putting it in park. He cocked his shotgun and stormed inside. His mom rushed over, ripping fragments from her coat to put on his arms. 

"T-they, they took," Clay sobbed out. He couldn't get a coherent word out. The events that just happened had taken everything out of him. A deep scream erupted from inside the house and his father stormed back outside. This was the first time Clay had seen his father cry.

"They took Tubbo."

Clay was taken out of school and had been stuck in the house all day by himself. His arms had stitches from where the glass was removed and he was stuck crying in bed alone. He pulled out the photo that was taken mere nights before and looked at it. Clay didn't understand why the police had to take him away. His parents weren't explaining anything to him. The door slamming from the front room caught his attention. He put the picture away and clawed at his tear-stained face. 

"Clay. You are to never see Techno again. We're enrolling you in homeschooling and that is the end of the story. You hear me?" Clay's father barged in, immediately yelling. Clay hung his head. Not a single mention of Tubbo. "I said, do you hear me?"

"Yes," Clay responded in a shaky voice. His father huffed and left quickly. He could hear his parents start to argue in the next room over. Tears began to silently fall from his face again. Why can't he see Techno? Is this punishment for not being able to protect Tubbo? Clay took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Techno's parents were FBI. Maybe he could get some help behind his parent's back...

_8th August 2015_

Clay hadn't seen Tubbo since that night. A day hadn't passed that he didn't think of his brother. That small polaroid picture he took six years ago was fraying at the edges. He tried his best to take care of it since it was the only thing he had left of him. Techno's parents were never able to help him. They said that if there was a case reported they would look into it. Clay realized his parents never reported Tubbo being taken. Now that Clay was 16, he knew a bit more about his family than he did when he was younger. They ran the city. Every crime was committed for a reason. Even down to the small thrift store steals. It was all calculated so that his parents came out on top. Even arrests were up to them. If they wanted someone to get caught for a reason, it would happen. Clay could only wonder where Tubbo was taken to. 

Techno had silently been meeting up with Clay every other week to hang out. It was their only form of communication. They decided to meet in the graveyard by Techno's house every other Thursday at midnight. Clay's parents were always 'out of town' until Saturday's so he even spent the night there sometimes. His tutor that his parents hired for homeschooling had made a deal with him. More like Clay made a deal with the tutor. He paid him extra to not come and teach him anything. Mom and Dad's money was good for something at least. This gave him the chance to sneak away Thursday through Saturday and not get caught.

Before his parents left Thursday they had given Clay a battle-ax as an early birthday present. He rolled his eyes but accepted it. He propped it up by his bedroom door, only to use in an emergency. It was apparently a tradition to receive your first weapon on your 17th birthday. What a fucked up family he has. He thought that maybe it was best Tubbo got out of this shit hole. He waved them goodbye and planned to get ready to go meet Techno. It was a few hours before midnight. He thought about bringing the ax to show him. Or would Techno think it's lame? Who cares, he'll bring it anyways, and maybe they can take turns hitting shit with it.

Midnight approached and Clay grabbed his bag and headed downstairs. It was a ten-minute bike ride to the graveyard so he always left early. Clay flipped all the lights off and opened the front door to reveal his father standing there with his arms crossed.

"Where do you think you're going?" His stern voice questioned. Clay backed up and didn't say anything. Why was his dad still here? "You know, I thought to myself that maybe I'd stay while your mother went on her way but I think I'll give her a call and we'll both stay here and ask you again, where do you think you're going?" Clay took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.

"You know, I'm really tired of all of this dodgy shit you do. I just want to have a normal life sometimes and go hang out with my friends," Clay retorted. His father laughed.

"What friends, son? Your family runs this town filling it to the brim with criminals. Who wants to be friends with you?" His dad pressed on. 

"You know what dad? You banished me from talking with Techno right after Tubbo was taken away. I needed a friend at that time and you and mom did nothing to help me. Was that not traumatic for you?" Clay questioned. "I only had Techno and I'm going to meet with him tonight. You can't stop me." His dad pulled out his phone and called who he assumed was his mom.

"Honey. Yeah, it's bad. Come back," his dad said and hung up. He shook his head at Clay. "Son we weren't going to tell you this but you leave us no choice. Techno was the one that got Tubbo taken away. Why do you think it happened right after your birthday party? You blabbed your mouth to him and he told his FBI parents. It's his fault." Clay felt confused and angry. Techno was the one that got Tubbo taken away?

"You're telling the truth?" Clay asked, hoisting the bag up to his shoulder. His dad looked at him confused but then grinned.

"Yeah, I'm telling the truth. Now since you planned on meeting up with Techno why don't you go give that son of a bitch a lesson? Tear him a new one with that pretty little ax you got," His dad egged him on. Clay was so angry that he saw red. He didn't even say anything else before rushing past his dad to his bike. It was time to confront Techno.

The 10-minute bike ride turned into a six-minute one. Clay's legs carried him so fast that he arrived there before Techno did. The graveyard that they met in was very run down and the tombstones were partially broken. It seemed like no one was ever in this part of the graveyard. There was no daily upkeep here. The fences that were barely hanging together had rusted up and down the length of it. The sharp pointed tips of the fence seemed to be pristine and glistening in the now rainy weather that kicked up. Clay yanked his hood over his head to keep the rain mostly out of his face. The hoodie was quite big so the hood hung over the top of his head. The anger was still coursing through him. He threw down his backpack and whipped the ax out, feeling the weight in his hand. Clay didn't know how to fight, let alone what he was going to do when Techno got here. He swung the ax with a grunt and let it crash into the nearby fence. It had sliced the horizontal bar in half and the fence bowed inwards a bit. Clay cracked his neck, now feeling a bit more confident that the weight of the ax felt nice in his hands. Footsteps made his heart skip a beat and he quickly turned. Techno was approaching from the woods nearby. He leaned on the ax, his heart rate still rapidly increasing. Did he really want to kill him or just get some answers?

"Nice dude. Where'd you get that thing?" Techno asked seemingly uninterested, slinging his bag down onto the ground next to Clay's. Techno either didn't pick up on Clay's heavy breathing or didn't mention it. Clay swallowed hard before speaking.

"We need to talk. We need to talk about my brother, Techno," Clay warned. Techno crossed his arms and leaned on a nearby headstone. 

"What about him? Didn't your parents send him off to live with your aunt or something?" Techno was clueless. Clay had told him that as a lie his parents came up with. That's what they told everyone. He just went to go live with their aunt for a bit because of some mold problems in the house. It had been 6 years though, and no one had questioned it. 

"Cut the bullshit. You know that was a lie!" Clay was now almost shouting. Techno frowned, taking a step away from the headstone. The ax that was in Clay's hands was rising steadily into a swinging motion. Clay didn't even have to think, his body was moving for him. As the ax came crashing down where Techno once stood, Techno rolled away into the mud splashing water everywhere. Clay had curved the ax a bit on the way down and it had gotten stuck into the stone Techno was standing next to. Clay frantically pulled at it, wiggling it free while Techno was glancing around at his surroundings. There wasn't any easily accessible thing to defend himself with.

"Clay I don't know what you're talking about. Let's just sit down and talk it out," Techno started to say a slight change in his normal monotone voice, but the ax had been freed faster than Techno thought. Another downward swing of the ax just barely cut Techno's pants leg as he threw himself back towards the fence. Clay regained his balance after missing once more and Techno looked up at the bowing fence and noticed a weak spot where the rust had gathered.

"Bullshit! You were the one that got Tubbo taken away. He isn't at our aunt's house, we don't even have an aunt!" Clay roared. Techno scrambled to his feet and pressed his back to the fence. Maybe he could get Clay to hit the fence and free an iron bar for him to use. Techno waited for Clay to wind up his swing once more and prayed that the timing was right. Clay brought the ax down with immense force, yet Techno dodged away again by diving for the ground to the left. The ax connected with the horizontal bar as it did earlier and sliced through the weak metal. The rusted iron bar fell with a clang near Clay's feet, and the sharp point had stayed intact. Techno was now walking away from where the bar had fallen, hoping to lure Clay away so he could grab the makeshift weapon. Clay took multiple short, jabbing swings at Techno who was still backing up, but he cleared all of them by running around the tombstones. Clay hopped over a few of them that Techno effortlessly dodged around thinking it was faster, but Techno took the shorter path and sprinted around for the iron bar. 

"I don't know anything about Tubbo, Clay. Last chance to talk it out!" Techno was now the one warning him. He had grabbed the iron bar and was wielding it like a sword. Techno's parents had spent countless hours teaching him how to fight and defend himself. They told him it might be useful since he is the son of two FBI agents. People were always trying to go after them. Especially in this shitty town. Techno wasn't sure how to use this weapon because he didn't intend on hurting his friend. He just wanted him to calm down and figure out what was going on. 

"Fuck you," Clay spat, running towards Techno. Techno braced, waiting to see what his moves were. Clay swung the ax over his right shoulder with two hands. If Techno dodges to Clay's right he wouldn't be able to hit him due to the wind-up. Techno quickly rolled to the right of him and Clay tried to follow but slid in the mud. This sent Clay crashing into a nearby tombstone on his back. Techno took his chance and took a swing at Clay, letting him know he was serious about protecting himself. Clay rolled over on his side, Techno's hit connecting into the mud where he once laid. Clay rolled until he was far enough away from Techno to stand back up. Techno braced again once more, seeing Clay ready up another swing on his ax.

"Come on man," Techno wearily pleaded. He didn't want to have to hurt Clay but it was looking like his friend wasn't going to let up. Clay wound the ax up over his right shoulder once more. Techno would just dodge to the right again to get out of the way. However, Clay had realized this attack wasn't going to work if he did it the same as earlier. At the last second Clay had let go of the ax with his left hand and changed direction, following Techno's roll. He sliced at Techno who was just in reach of the sharp edge. The blade connected with skin and Techno let out a sharp cry of pain. Clay was too blinded by anger to see what had happened, he just knew that he needed Techno dead. Blood mixed with the watery mud and created a dark brown color. Techno was still writhing in pain, causing Clay to hesitate with his next move. Did he want him dead? Techno was clutching his hand to his chest, blood already staining his shirt. Next to techno were three small parts of his fingers. From the second knuckle up on the middle and ring finger, and the first knuckle up on his pinky finger was sliced clean off. Techno was panicking. He knew he needed to calm down as much as he could. He held his hand to his chest as he switched hands with the weapon. Clay had maimed his right hand, so his next best hope was to swing at him with his left if he got too close. Clay had realized the severity of the situation and began to panic himself. He reached down to the left of Techno to pick up the fingers, realizing that if he can get him to help, his hand could be saved. Techno flung his arm out towards Clay, the iron pole connecting into the left cheek of Clay's face. The pointed tip had lodged itself there and broke, and as Techno drew his arm back it sliced down towards his lip. A painful cry erupted from Clay, and he dropped to his knees next to Techno, clutching his face and Techno's severed fingers falling back into the mud. Techno had calmed down enough to remember something his parents had told him a few years ago. They had hired people to take away a son from an abusive family. Could that have been Tubbo? Clay had finished yelling and was now ripping cloth from his hoodie. 

"Take this," Clay shakily said, handing Techno some scraps of fabric. The two boys had lost all sense of fight. Clay's muscles in his torn cheek burned as he tried to speak. Techno took it and gently pressed it to his mangled hand. Face injuries hurt like a bitch, but the blood seemed to be gently seeping out instead of gushing like Techno's fingers. Clay ripped some more cloth and pressed it to his cheek. The saliva mixing with spit caused an intense burning sensation and he swore. There was still a piece of metal stuck, surely giving him an infection from being rusted to its core. 

"Clay, my parents mentioned that they hired some people to take away someone's son because they were abusive towards him. Do you think that has any correlation to what you accused me of?" Techno questioned, wincing at the pain from his half-cut fingers. He looked at Clay's shredded cheek with the metal point in it and immediately regretted what had happened. He could have diffused the situation differently. He was trained to be defensive, not to hurt. 

"Two cops?" Clay questioned, barely saying anything else. The metal needed to come out before he could attempt to speak normally. He was working up the courage to rip it out. Techno nodded, attempting to stand up. He managed to get up and stagger to the side. He leaned on a tombstone as Clay also got up.

"Fuck, you couldn't have asked me this before you came swinging a fucking ax at me?" Techno questioned with a hint of anger laced in his voice. He looked down at his muddy fingers laying on the ground. There was no use in picking them up now. The dirt had claimed them. All of a sudden Clay ripped the metal piece out of his mouth, a hole near his back molars started dripping blood. He was going to need stitches. The metal had torn another small slit up towards his cheekbone exiting the skin. He suppressed a scream into his opposite shoulder and swore again.

"My parents fucking lied. They told me it was you and I believed them. I'm such an idiot!" He growled out. Techno felt a bit woozy but the bleeding had calmed down a bit, so he knew he had a bit more time to get help. "You know what? I think I need to teach them a lesson. And you're going to help me." Clay had began to feel bloodlust. He wanted revenge for something. Anything.

"Oh am I now?" Techno questioned somewhat intrigued. Clay picked up his ax again. He grabbed his bag next and rummaged for the pistol he stole and tossed it towards Techno once it was found. It was his parent's gun they kept under their pillow. The one he shot the window out to try and get to Tubbo. It landed at Techno's feet and he reached down to grab it with his left hand.

"Yeah. I cut your goddamn fingers off Techno. You at least get to help me deliver the message to them that they fucked up," Clay stated. The blood was dripping down the side of his neck now creating bloody streams from the wound. Lightning lit up the graveyard and Techno could see a devilish glint in his eyes. "I'm gonna fucking kill them."

The two bloody boys strolled up to the house, not knowing where Clay's parents were, but they were expecting a fight nonetheless. Clay told Techno to stay outside until he yelled for him. Turning the light on he noticed his parents were just sitting on the couch. 

"Clay, oh my God. Clay!" His mother gasped. She noticed the bloody mess that was his face. She hurriedly got up and attempted to grab for him but he held up the ax and shook his head.

"No. Don't come near me you bitch," He warned. She threw a hand to her mouth. His dad rose up from the couch and stormed over. The rain had picked up quite a bit on the ride over, and Clay was drenched.

"Do not talk to your mother that way, son," His father pointedly stated. Clay scoffed and a smile formed. He rocked the ax back and forth at his side, rainwater dripping off the end of it.

"I'll talk to you two however I want. You lied to me. Isn't that right, Techno?" With his cue, Techno appeared in the doorway, clutching his hand to his chest and aiming a gun with his other. They were there to threaten them, but if anything happened Techno was to shoot his dad. His mother was no harm, at least not yet.

"Why is this bastard here? He's the reason Tubbo is," Clay's dad began but Clay pointed the ax at him. Techno inched closer, grabbing one of the armchair covers to wrap around his hand. The bloody cloth that Clay let him use fell to the floor with a splat. He aimed the gun back at Clay's father when he was done.

"Techno didn't get Tubbo taken away. It was his parents. We talked this through on the way over. His parents were hot on your trail, and you didn't even think they would do anything to us once they found you. You thought wrong. They took Tubbo and you didn't even bat an eye. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Clay pressed on, pressing the ax into his dad's chest. The blade was sharp enough it ripped a line through his dad's nicely pressed shirt. The emotions were swimming through his head. Anger, fear, confusion. There wasn't a word for how he was feeling.

"Honey I can explain," Clay's mom began but Techno shot at the ground near her feet. She shrieked and backed away, Clay not even flinching at the sound. However, it caused his ears to ring, sending him back briefly to the time he first shot a gun. The two boys were wearing hiking gloves that Clay kept in his bag. This meant they could do whatever they wanted and no one would know. 

"It's a little too late for explaining, mom. I almost killed my best friend because you both lied to me," Clay was distracted by his mom, and his dad took this opportunity to try and grab the ax out of his hands. Techno shot at Clay's dad's hand and he recoiled instantly with a shout. Techno had shot a hole through his hand.

"Don't try anything else," Techno simply stated. Clay's dad groaned but returned back next to his wife. He cradled his hand into his shirt, soaking up the now dripping blood. Clay gritted his teeth. The anger was now taking control.

"Why the fuck didn't you do anything about them taking Tubbo? He's your son for Christ's sake!" Clay was now yelling. Techno stood behind him, the gun still trained and ready to shoot if needed. His parents were silent. They were scrambling for an excuse, looking between each other.

"Honey we didn't have a choice," Clay's mother started to say. He jabbed the ax towards her and she backed up a few steps.

"Didn't have a choice? You run one of the biggest crime scenes in the world. You couldn't spare a few people to go get Tubbo back? You blamed this on Techno and not yourselves. You monsters," Clay was livid now. "The brother _I raised_ was ripped out of my arms. I have nightmares about that every day. But you don't care. You only care about saving yourselves." It was Clay's dad's time to try and calm him down.

"Son, the FBI was going to find us if we stepped foot out of the house to look for him," His dad offered, but Clay only shook his head in response.

"It's too late for the apologies," Clay lifted the ax back towards his dad once more. Techno stood by ready for something to go wrong. Clay was slowly losing it. Techno could see the confusing jumble of emotions he was going through. The clenched jaw and fists were his anger. The heavy breathing was his fear and adrenaline. He was swinging the ax back and forth in an irregular pattern. Almost seeming a bit crazed. Techno saw Clay's dad's slight movement before Clay did and pulled the trigger before he could even say another word. Clay's dad fell to the ground without a sound, and Clay let the ax fall back down to his side. After glancing at his father's body now lifeless on the floor, he turned to his mother. She didn't even flinch at her husband's death. She seemed to be more afraid of her own death than his. Clay's eyes were almost blank, compared to a few moments ago. 

"I am not lying," She tried to change her tone of voice to something more soothing and believable. "Techno was at fault for this." It was Techno's time to laugh. It was an emotionless laugh, but it was intimidating.

"A ten-year-old clearly has enough power to get a crime lord's son taken away. Yeah, I believe it. Don't you Clay?" Techno questioned, training the gun onto Clay's mother now. She clenched her jaw and looked back at Clay, scared now. 

"Honey, it was for the best. It was because we love you," Her frantic last words meant nothing to the boys. Clay only wanted two things. He wanted revenge and to find his lost brother. 

"For the best and because you love me?" Clay echoed. His blank eyes showed no emotion. "You lied to me for six years about this. You weren't there when Tubbo was taken. I took all of that trauma and I have been the one to live with it all this time. So fuck you. Fuck dad, and I hope you rot in hell you monsters," He angrily declared. With one final swing of the ax, his mother's body fell to the floor and her head rolled a few feet away. Silence filled the room. Techno stood staring at Clay who was now gasping for air. The emotions swirling through his head sent him into a manic state. Techno noticed Clay's shoulders start shaking, and he thought he had started crying. That is, until he turned to him, the blood still dripping down his mouth and cheek, and showed a giant grin. That crazy glint was back in his eyes as well. Manic laughter erupted from him. 

"You know Techno, we got rid of my parents, right?" Clay turned slowly and gestured towards him with the ax. "What about your parents? They're the ones that took Tubbo from me." Clay had stopped laughing, but his eyes were still wide. That crazed smile seemed to get even bigger, the tear in his cheek becoming a blurry, bloody mess from what his actual mouth was and where the gash started. Techno just shrugged and put the gun down, reaching for another armchair cover. He wrapped the new one around his hand and let the bloody one fall again. 

"Sounds good to me," Techno cocked the gun against his hip and the two boys were off to get some answers from his parents.

Techno's parents had been peacefully sleeping when the two boys barged in and held them at gunpoint. Techno had found Clay a gun, as he had ditched the ax at his house. It was almost time for the boys to go get some medical help. Techno was feeling pretty weak and Clay's face was starting to burn and itch. The constant taste of blood in his mouth was almost enough to make him puke, but there was a task at hand and he couldn't focus on that right now. The two had ordered them to handcuff themselves to the bedframe while they asked questions.

"Dad, tell the truth and maybe he won't kill you," Techno stated, looking back at Clay. He stuck his thumb into the hole in his cheek, wincing slightly. He made a fist and stuck his thumb out, slowly dragging it across his neck and painting a red line with his own blood. He grinned and started laughing at the fear on Techno's parents' faces. Techno frowned slightly, realizing how insane his friend had gotten. Killing his own parents, and now Techno's.

"We can't tell you that. You wouldn't let him kill us. We never wronged you, honey!" Techno's mom pleaded. Techno shook his head and sighed.

"Wrong answer," He replied looking back at Clay. Techno raised his gun and shot at his mom without looking. She slumped down into the bed and Techno's dad let a guttural scream out. He had shot her between the eyes. At least it had been a quick death. Clay had his arms crossed, the blood that was caked onto his face was now drying and cracking as he smiled. Techno didn't want to do this but there were too many loose ends. Clay's parents mysteriously dying wouldn't have made sense. They were going to frame the deaths on each of the two families' workforces. Frame a few of Clay's parents' henchmen and then set it up so it looks like both were at fault. They were going to discuss details later.

"You're both monsters!" Techno's dad cried out. Clay crossed the room quickly, shoving the gun into Techno's dad's face. 

"Give me an answer and I'll make it quick. Where the hell is my brother?" Clay threatened, pushing the pistol against his forehead. Techno's dad shook his head and began crying. No matter what he was going to say, Techno knew that his dad was going to die at Clay's hands.

"Orphanage. Could be anywhere by now," Techno's father replied. Clay didn't like that answer and immediately pulled the trigger. He knew Techno's dad didn't know the truth. He was just going to have to fill his parent's shoes and find out himself. He wanted everyone involved with taking Tubbo to suffer. He was going to find the names of those two nice officers that visited them not too long after Clay's 10th birthday. 

"What are we gonna do now? I need to get to the hospital. And you look like a nightmare," Techno blatantly stated. Clay only laughed in response. 

"I'm no nightmare. I'm a lovely dream." There was a slight pause as he was thinking. "Hey, Techno. You've got a cool nickname. What's stopping me from creating my own identity if we're gonna be the bad guys now? I think I like Dream. Mysterious enough but just oh so innocent," Clay seemed to be speaking mostly to himself, however. Techno shrugged and gestured to his hand.

"Alright Dream boy, get me to the hospital," Techno repeated, using his friend's new nickname. Or should he be considered his partner in crime? They did just kill the two most powerful crime lords in existence so there are some pretty big shoes to fill. 

_It had been a year and a half since Dream and Techno had gone on their murder spree. It was an easy cover-up. The boys had gotten help, claiming that Techno was chopping firewood for their camping trip and accidentally severed his fingers, and Dream had gotten a fish hook stuck in his cheek. When asked why the cut on his cheek was so big, he claimed it was panic and he tried to use his own knife to cut it out, before ripping the chunk of skin connected to the hook off. Paramedics easily chalked it up to two idiot teenage boys doing shit they shouldn't have. Dream used his parents' fake information and there were no questions asked. They got patched up, prescribed medicine, and they were out the next day. They spent the whole next day scrubbing blood off of the floor of Dream's house and washing and burning the evidence. They probably only had one more day of grace to decide what to do with Techno's parents. Dream took his dad's phone and pulled a few strings. He was going to send a few low-lived freaks over to Techno's house and call the police right before they get there. Techno's parents' deaths will look like it was the fault of the idiots that show up. Techno and Dream ended up burying his parents' bodies in the woods behind the house. It was far enough out in the country that no one would know. Besides the house was paid off. As long as they shut everything in the house off, no one would know. Dream took one final look at his home and vowed to find Tubbo. He was going to live with Techno in the small house near the city for now. The one where Techno came over for his 10th birthday. Where this all began._


	3. Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post this warning before each chapter:  
> This AU has dark themes and is not how any of the involved members act. This is simply my idea of how they would react in a crime setting.  
> The final members have been recruited.

_14th July 2019_

Summer had claimed everything that wasn't indoors. Iced tea that sat outside for more than a minute had no evidence that ice had even been there. Nightfall didn't quite release anyone from the sweaty hell either. Thankfully the bars and shops that lined the busy side street were ice cool. Hot nights meant great business for the two bartenders. Tips and drunkards were plenty and the endless stream of alcohol seemed to go long into the night. There was even a line outside of the bar waiting to get in. The hot air didn't stop those who wanted a taste of the cold refreshing alcohol.

Wilbur had worked there for quite some time now. Phil was much older than him and had worked there longer, but the two had become as close as family. Phil had taught Wilbur all the tricks in the book. They worked every weeknight and sometimes came in on weekends together to watch the soccer games and not serve for once. It was a Friday night so Wilbur expected to maybe catch a drink with Phil tomorrow. Unless Wilbur suddenly got a job from his other employer, he was free. Phil was cleaning up some tables when a new face walked into the bar.

"Welcome!" Wilbur called out to the new man. He seemed a bit young but was definitely of drinking age. He would card him if he ordered something just to be safe. Phil looked over and nodded, acknowledging their new patron. The man didn't say anything as he sat down in front of Wilbur. "Can I get you started with something?" He shook his head and glanced over at Phil.

"I'll have a glass of water. Send your friend over here when he's free. I've got a job for you two," The man stated. Wilbur frowned. Was this a hit job? Why does he want Phil to help? Wilbur got him a glass of ice water and slowly slid it towards him.

"What kind of job, sir?" He was still on the clock so he had to be polite. Wilbur could sense something wrong. If this stranger knew his side job, what does he want with Phil? The man nodded his head appreciatively towards the water and took a swig. Another bargoer waved Wilbur over. He quickly took his order, glancing back at the man who was swirling the ice around in the water. "I'll have that right up. One second sir." He didn't even bother to start on the man's drink, he turned back to the guy with the water again.

"You know. Call him over," He replied setting the glass down, leaning in so the others next to him couldn't hear. Wilbur swallowed and quickly mapped out a plan in his head. If things went south he could run to the other end of the counter and grab his pistol. His fingers twitched, thinking about having to pull the trigger in this busy room. "Don't even think about the pistol or the knife." Wilbur froze. He had a knife belted around his shin. Phil had noticed Wilbur's shocked look and started over towards the two.

"How's the new customer doing?" Phil slung his arm around Wilbur. He realized there was some tension in the air and raised his guard.

"Excellent now that you're here," He chirped brightly. The tone quickly shifted to something quieter. "Listen, you both are killers. Surprised that you're this close and didn't know that about each other. Wilbur here is a sniper. Phil is a torturer who gets any info that he wants," The man rattled off. Phil and Wilbur exchanged somewhat shocked glances and Phil shook his head. The other people around them were just drunk enough that they were engrossed in their own conversations and not theirs.

"Ex. Ex-torturer," Phil added to the end, narrowing his eyes. "Besides it was interrogation work and I don't do that shit anymore. My last job was over three years ago." Phil shook his head. He hadn't thought about this fact for a while. Wilbur felt oddly closer to Phil knowing that his dreadful hitman life wasn't much worse than his. Unlike Wilbur, Phil wasn't too worried about a stranger coming in and saying they had a job for him. This had happened many times behind Wilbur's back, but he politely declined each time. As he had stated, he doesn't do that anymore. "Well, I am going to have to decline. However, if it involves Wilbur I request that you decline also." That last part was now directed at Wilbur. The two men didn't even bat an eye at the current conversation going on. It seemed as if this new information had only brought them closer.

"I'm afraid you both have to accept. There's money involved. Now I know you two are barely scraping by as bartenders and with your small side jobs, Wilbur," The man replied. He finished the water and slid it over to them. Wilbur clenched his jaw and refilled it, sliding it back towards him. The man from earlier realized he hadn't gotten his drink yet.

"Hey, dickhead. Where's my beer?" He called out. Wilbur glanced at Phil before going to fulfill the man's order. Phil leaned in close to the man.

"I don't know what kind of money you're talking about but we don't want it. There's no reason for me to get involved with my old life again and I'm sure Wilbur doesn't need the stress right now," Phil rushed out before Wilbur returned. Phil trusted Wilbur would decline, but he was slightly afraid of what would happen if he accepted. Wilbur was now leaning in alongside Phil.

"What's the details? How do we know you're a legit employer?" Wilbur questioned, glancing around at the people sitting close to the bar. They were sitting at the counter chugging their cold drinks and prattling on to their buddies. The man leaned back and grinned.

"I'm not an employer. My employer told me to hire you both. Not quite sure what he sees in you two idiots but I think we can work with you," He replied finishing off his water again. The sweat had been collecting in his headband and he raised it up to wipe away the droplets.

"So we should trust a job from an employer we haven't met? Yeah, no thanks," Phil started to say, turning away. Wilbur grabbed his arm and turned him back.

"Phil I think we should take this job. I looked at the shifts for next week and they're cutting my hours," Wilbur stated. He didn't want to concern his friend since they spent so much time together. It seemed like their boss wasn't too happy with how the customers had been reporting his bartending skills. They were going to slowly cut Wilbur out of his job. Phil frowned and shook his head.

"I don't want you to get involved with this life of crime like I did. This city runs rampant with crime and if you get involved with the wrong people you're dead," Phil warned. He wasn't sure how else to change Wilbur's mind. Money was pretty hard to come by, even working every shift possible here.

"Listen, it's simple really. Just accept the task and when you're done with this shift I'll meet you out back and take you to your first job. I'll even pay half now," The man offered. Wilbur looked at Phil and clenched his jaw.

"I need this, Phil," Wilbur stated. Phil took a deep breath and sighed, turning back to face the man. "How much now?" The man pulled out a wad of cash and began counting hundreds in front of them.

"Five hundred now and seven hundred later. I don't want to risk you two running off so it'll be a bit less than half. Your friends giving me vibes that he doesn't wanna do this," He responded. Phil shook his head. That money was tempting. Doing a job like this every week would mean he could do part-time.

"I'm in. Pay up and our shift is done in a few hours. Meet by the dark blue chevy," Phil ordered. The man smirked and handed him his money. He dealt out the other wad to Wilbur and they both slid it into their pockets.

"As a courtesy tip, here's another fifty on top of that for you both. See you soon," Without a second glance the man got up and left, leaving the two fifties on the counter. The two men each took one of the bills and looked at each other. What had they just gotten into? This man's employer was just letting him throw money around like this to people he didn't trust. Must be a rich man...

The night dragged on, but the shift was finally over. Phil and Wilbur booked it out back, making sure their cash was still secure in their pockets. The man from earlier was leaning against Phil's dark blue chevy like he was instructed to.

"Okay, what now? We need to get the hell out of here and discuss things first. I don't need my employers thinking I'm doing a drug deal," Phil stated clicking his car key button. The car unlocked and the man smiled.

"Perfect. Let's get in and I'll tell you where to drive," The man replied. He immediately got into the backseat of Phil's car. Wilbur was thankful that they had carpooled that night. The two reluctantly got into the driver and shotgun seats. Sending up a silent prayer that the two weren't going to die, Phil started the car.

The two arrived behind an old warehouse. The parking was scarce surprisingly. They pulled up and parked next to two vans. This wasn't suspicious at all. The three men quickly exited the car and followed the youngest. He brought them to the rooftop.

"Alright. I've supplied you with the gun this time, next time I need you to buy one," He handed Wilbur the gun in question. "I need you to tranquilize the guy that's going to walk past here in the next 30 minutes. Shouldn't miss him. Wearing a bright green hoodie and might have a mask on his face. Looks like a paper plate. What an idiot," The last part was muttered under his breath. Phil looked confused.

"Why am I here then?" Phil questioned. The man smiled and motioned to the empty ground where the green hooded man should walk by.

"We need someone to help carry him to the interrogation room. We need you to get some info out of him," The man replied. Phil gritted his teeth. He didn't expect to be torturing anyone tonight. "Anyways, I'm leaving you two to it. I'll be watching from afar." The two were left on the roof along with the new gun. Wilbur carefully checked it over.

"It's legit, the tranquilizer looks strong enough to knock a man out for a little while. We just need to wait I guess," Wilbur stated. Phil shook his head.

"I still don't like this. We should get down and stay focused in case he comes sooner," Phil suggested. The two of them got into position and waited. Not long after they had gotten positioned a man walked into frame. It was the bright green hoodie and a white mask with a crudely drawn smile on it. Their target had arrived. Wilbur lined up his shot almost ready to pull the trigger, but his target had moved perfectly behind a pole. He frowned and carefully repositioned. Once more he lined up the shot, and the man bent down behind a dumpster to tie his shoe. Wilbur could attempt to shoot at the exposed hand but it would be a disaster if he missed. It needed to be in the shoulder area. The third attempt at lining up the shot was blocked by yet another pole.

"Phil, he must know. Why else would I not be able to land this shot?" Wilbur hissed out. Phil clenched his jaw, glancing at the man to see if he heard. Wilbur was becoming agitated, ready to go down there and use his knife instead. Phil motioned to the man and Wilbur lined up a shot again. He checked his ammo and realized there were two tranquilizer darts. He could do something with this... The green hooded man paced up and down the alley, frequently passing by objects that hid his body. Wilbur lined up a shot and nailed it into a nearby trashcan, sending it spilling over. The contents of the bin lined the street and the man paused his stroll, enough time for Wilbur to load up his second shot. The shot landed into his bicep. Not what Wilbur was aiming for but it would have to do. The man ripped the dart out, looked up at the skyline, and fell to the ground. It was time. Wilbur and Phil quickly made their way off of the roof and down to the man's body. The guy from earlier met them there in an instant.

"Great. Bring him in this building and we'll wait for the tranquilizer to wear off. I only loaded a bit of the drug in it. Probably not enough to keep him out long," The man explained. Phil and Wilbur quickly picked up the man and began dragging him into the nearby building.

They had tied the masked man to a chair and had kept the mask on, and for whatever reason, the guy from earlier wouldn't let Phil take it off.

"Alright, you know the drill. At least I'm assuming you do if someone wants information from you this badly," Phil stated, taking off his jacket. He put it on the chair facing the masked man and began to roll up his sleeves. He was going to have to use brute force; he didn't have any supplies to torture the man with. "Now you can just tell me now or," Phil cracked his knuckles. "I can beat the answer out of you." Phil was only met with silence, and the stupid mask smiling back at him. "One more chance. Start talking and I won't beat you to a pulp," Phil's voice had lowered, reminding himself of who he once was. The intimidation tactics were coming back fast. The masked man merely tilted his head and shrugged. Without warning, Phil's fist connected into the man's stomach. A forceful grunt was squeezed out of him. "Now, tell me what I want to hear," Phil stated, looking at the man who was still gasping for air. A somewhat strangled laugh escaped his lips.

"What exactly do you want from me? I don't even know why I'm here," He innocently stated catching his breath. Phil shook his head. He'd heard this kind of spiel many times before. Phil slowly took off his tie and wrapped it around his knuckles.

"You know why you're here. Why else would I be assigned to this easy task? You made it a point to avoid my partner when he was trying to shoot you. Why's that?" Phil questioned, sending another flying punch into the masked man's shoulder this time. He let out a cry and recoiled. Must have hurt even more than a normal punch since it was the shoulder he got tranquilized in.

"I wasn't avoiding anyone. I was waiting for my friend to pick me up when the trashcan got knocked over and then I had a fuckin' dart in my arm," The masked man retorted. Phil smirked and nodded. He carefully stepped in front of the man and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Then why did you seem caught off guard when the trashcan was the first shot my partner took? There was the coincidence of two tranq darts when he should really only need one shot for most normal people. Who are you really?" Phil released his grip on his shirt and walked behind him. The masked man was handcuffed with his arms behind the chair. He began to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Phil was a little _too_ good at his job. Phil grabbed his arms and began to raise them little by little forcing the pressure into the man's shoulders.

"Wouldn't you be scared if a trashcan got knocked over without any warning?" The masked man managed to speak. Phil had raised his arms high enough to almost break something. He paused, letting the man squirm. He was trying to get some relief by rising up out of the chair, but Phil held him steady.

"You looked up at the roof after you were shot. You knew we were there. Stop with this bullshit before I get mad," Phil said, letting the man's arms snap back down, hitting the chair. He grunted and gritted his teeth. Phil grabbed onto the man's shoulder and leaned into his ear. "Tell me what I want to hear and we can end this quickly, you hear me punk?" The man laughed, and Phil quickly dislocated his shoulder with one swift movement. The wheezing laugh became a garbled mix of laughter and pain. "Now that your little theatrics are over, I wanna know why I'm interrogating my potential employer?" The masked man froze, his laughter and cries of pain ceased. He had expected this to go on longer. Phil was too smart and saw right through him.

"You're good at this you know that Phil?" The man replied coldly. Phil's eyes widened and he walked back in front of the man. "You've almost convinced me that you're still the man you used to be,"

"Tell me!" Phil roared, throwing another punch, hitting him square in the jaw. The masked man let another anguished cry out, which mixed into maniacal laughter. Phil took a step back, realizing that he was somewhat insane, and he knew who he was. No one can just laugh off the physical pain of dislocating a shoulder and getting punched in the face like that. The room was filled with laughter that soon died out. Phil wasn't going to let his empty comments get to him.

"Aw, giving up so soon?" The man taunted. Phil regained his composure and got close to the faceless man. He shook his head and scoffed. Phil leaned in, digging his heel into the seated man's foot. He squirmed as Phil pressed his weight onto him.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours dickhead," Phil said, quickly ripping the mask off. The man was young. Even younger than Wilbur. He had a horrible scar on the side of his face, and his lip had a chunk missing from it. Phil stepped back and let the mask fall to the ground.

"Don't recognize me, Phil? Take a closer look," He said giving him a pouty face. Phil frowned and shook his head. He doesn't know this kid. He couldn't, right? "Come on, you don't recognize these sweet little green eyes? The one that you complimented and gave me a gift when you visited my parents? That jacket makes you look tough, son," The last part was stated with a mimicked accent to Phils. The memory of giving his old employers' son the jacket came back. He wasn't close with them but wanted to make sure that their son was comfortable with him briefly visiting sometimes. Phil backed away, letting the tie unravel and fall off of his hand.

"C-Cla," Phil stuttered but the man shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"Not anymore. It's Dream now. Untie me and we'll have a real discussion about this mess," Dream stated. Phil was still in awe.

"I thought... they told me that you died!" Phil cried out, turning towards the wall. The room was almost spinning. All this time he blamed himself for not warning Clay's parents sooner. He knew that the FBI was on their tail but he just couldn't forgive them for not looking for Tubbo. He knew how much those two boys meant to each other. He thought his carelessness had killed Clay as well.

"Well, yes but no. I'm so much smarter than my parents ever could have been. I've turned their business into a booming economy. What they never could have done. You and Wilbur are the last step in my plan. You've both proved to me that you have what it takes. As for Tubbo," Dream turned to the two-way glass. Wilbur was stood watching with the man from earlier on the other side. "None of you will say anything about Tubbo. I've already got him located, I just need your help recruiting him. We'll discuss more after you untie me, Phil," The last part was now directed back at him. "And fix my fucking shoulder dude." Phil swallowed hard. His routine night of bartending had taken a horrible twist. Old habits had been brought back to life, and now he's gotta keep secrets from his dead employer's son that was taken away. On the other side of the interrogation glass, Wilbur was pacing back and forth.

"Okay, so who the hell are you then?" Wilbur questioned, folding his arms. Phil was on the other side of the glass, helping put the now unmasked man's shoulder back into place. Phil started to say one name, but the man interrupted and stated his name was 'dream'. What the hell kind of name was that?

"I'm Sapnap. I work very closely with Dream. We've been friends for a while. Looks like you two made the cut so I'll be seeing you around here," Sapnap said, watching as Dream's shoulder was fixed. He still was probably going to need some painkillers. There were bruises forming along his jawline where Phil had punched him. Dream had insisted on doing this, so he knew the consequences.

"Doesn't seem like a very smart man if he purposefully put himself in the position of being beaten. Why didn't he have you do it? You've got a punchable face," Wilbur nonchalantly replied. Sapnap frowned and turned towards him quickly. Wilbur was still pondering this man's odd name. It must be some sort of nickname.

"You better watch it, dude, I'll show you the meanest uppercut you've ever seen," He threatened. Wilbur almost laughed. His attention was now on the fiery attitude in front of him.

"You're such a small kid, can you even reach my jaw?" Wilbur now taunted. He realized the man in the room with him was no threat, and Phil could easily take out this Dream fellow by himself if this went wrong.

"If we weren't recruiting you I'd have you on the floor asshole. Get out of here. Dream will be in touch," Sapnap was restraining himself from taking the first swing at the new guy. He clenched and unclenched his fists as Wilbur left the room. "Dream you better be right about these guys."

There were only two more members left to be recruited.


End file.
